Blue Skies

 I once told a friend in Addis Ababa that the reason they were so much closer to God than we were, is because they were on top of a mountain and could see His face more easily.  Where we in America, have so many clouds in our way that we can't see Him without straining our neck.

Clouds of job problems, marital issues, social concerns, kids activities - anything to keep our minds off our Creator and make us think the world revolves around us and every problem takes 100% of our attention for us to fix on our own.   No help needed.

As I walked this morning and reflected on the revival happening at college campuses in the U.S. this week, I looked up and the Holy Spirit had me focus in on the clouds.   A full sheet of clouds, just covering the sky.   But little patches of blue peeked through.    And that's where He had me focus.  A revival of sorts, a realization of my own selfishness and narrow mindedness.  

It's time we switch our focus.   Stop focusing on the clouds and look for the blue skies.    The goodness behind the noise.     The Creator is speaking to us every morning and we are too busy to stop and breathe it in.   BE STILL.    He speaks in the voice of the birds who have returned to sing His song.   In the cry of the perfect baby He created from only two solitary cells.   In the pink and yellow flowers He calls forth from the bulb at the perfect time.    His voice and image is all around us, and yet we are usually too busy to stop and see.

The clouds of Satanic award shows, the idols of our day, the evil leaders - they instead occupy our attention.   The noise of natural or man-made disasters, food shortages, the drumbeats of war - it is all a mist.  A scary mist, yes.   But still, just a blanket of clouds that will one day be rolled back and then all we will see is goodness and the purity that was meant to be.   

This world is only a motel room, where we reside a little while.   You can fill it with the most beautiful and perfect things - houses, cars, and pretty artwork.   But it is still, all a mist, a mirage that we build with our own hands.   Just a cloud to be blown away, never mattering at all.   What matters is our home for eternity, not this hotel room.   What matters is those that we invite to come with us.   What matters is those that we warn about refusing the invitation.    There is only one way to check in there, and that is trusting and believing in the one who is the ultimate Creator.   Keep your eyes on the sky friends.... and look for the SON.

"Dear brothers and sisters, be patient as you wait for the Lord's return.  Consider the farmers who patiently wait for the rains in the fall and in the spring.  They eagerly look for the valuable harvest to ripen.  You, too, must be patient.  Take courage, for the coming of the Lord is near."  James 5:7-8

Just take my hand

 Years ago, we struggled through the adoption trials.   One setback after another.    Smacking me in the face.   Pushing me farther from the shore.   Farther and farther away from my baby.    It just wouldn’t stop - the waves of life.    I was drowning.    Calling out to God “why did you ask us to do this and then are letting this pain happen??” 

Later, marital troubles hit.  Again I was back in that ocean of turmoil.    Being hit from every side.    Tossed to and fro in the ocean of anger and sin.   Drowning in my own tears.   Again I cried out, “God, if you loved me, why are you letting this happen?????”

But the whole time.   He was there.  Smiling down at me.   My Daddy God.   Arm outstretched.   “Just take my hand”.     I was the toddler, bobbing in the ocean, drinking big gulps of salt water and pain.    Being hit in the face with waves taller than me.   Struggling for a reprieve and here was my God... standing beside me, “just take my hand”.  

You see, our world is full of sin.    God isn’t the author of those attacks.   That is the enemy at work.  Trying to break you. And while I am the toddler who pulls my arm back saying “I’ve got this!!  I can do this!!! I’m mad at you!!!”      God is the daddy who smiles and just says “take my hand”.   Because when you take HIS hand, those waves of life keep coming, but instead of drowning, you float right over.   They keep hitting you, but his strong arm keeps you safe, helping you stay afloat.    Life is hard, struggles are hard.   But it is only when we give up our stubbornness and allow him to comfort us, support us, and love us - that we begin to breathe again.  And those waves don’t seem so big and scary anymore.

Just take His hand.    

"The Hand of God" - Yongsung Kim

“ For I am the Lord your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you,

 Do not fear; I will help you.”  

Isaiah 41:13

Is your lamp still lit?

 

My lamp was empty when the power went out.  By flashlight, I climbed to the top of the fridge to retrieve the oil I hadn’t used in years.  Honestly, I had almost forgotten where it was. 

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And this morning, while reading Matthew 24 (a good refresher for anyone right now), I transitioned into Matthew 25.  The parable of the waiting bridesmaids spoken by Christ.  He describes his return, and those waiting for him.  And it made me wonder, for those 5 out of the 10 bridesmaids... They made themselves ready, they were probably wearing their best dresses and had actually put on mascara and lipstick for the occasion.  They picked up their lanterns and waited patiently for His return. 

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But he took a long time.  Their lamps went out one by one.  Much in the same way, how many of us came out of the gate on fire as new Christians?  Quiet time everyday.  Bible studies with new friends.  Relying on God and prayer for our guidance versus the latest feel good article or website. 

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But when Christ came back, they had already let their lights run out.  Perhaps they were too focused on their new job, or listening to society tell them ‘you don’t need anyone, you are a fierce woman!  Pink hats for us all!!’ Perhaps they now shun ‘those silly Christians’ as ignorant or old fashioned... ‘why do we need a fairy tale god to obey when there is so much fun to be had here?’ Perhaps they just went to sleep and forgot they were hoping for him at all?? 

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Regardless, when the bridegroom returned, they woke up and realized they were lacking.  And no borrowing of oil - ‘’my family are all Christians”. No excuses - “I once said a prayer when I was a teenager”. No begging - “I’ve never killed anyone, please let me in!!” Nothing could refill the valuable oil that would have kept their lights shining - The Spirit he had originally given them to light the way and bring others to His party. 

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“But he replied, ‘I tell you the truth, I don’t know you.’ (Matt 25:12)

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That’s pretty enlightening..

God still speaks

Bringing over some of my writings from Facebook... Forgive me if seasons and dates are a mess... 

I woke up at 5:30 am with a small nudge. “Come see the sunrise." But I stubbornly closed my eyes and awoke at 6:30 to sun beaming around the curtains. 

Patiently, my Lord waited on me to show up for our date, an hour late.  Unsurprised.  But still willing to talk.  Maybe I missed out on the most gorgeous sunrise my eyes would have ever seen.  Maybe I missed out on finding the perfect, unbroken shell.  

But here is what I know.  God still speaks to His children.  That small voice telling you not to take that perfect job.  Don’t date that smooth guy.  Don’t go out by yourself here tonight.  It’s the little things you chalk up to ‘feelings’ that if heard enough, is your Daddy pounding on the door of your heart, begging you to listen. 

Today, being the gentleman he is - he gifted me with the broken shell and the words “you can still see beauty in brokenness.” It can never be fixed.  Too far past that.  But there is still beauty to be found in the crummy job, the tough marriage, wayward child, or lackluster situation you are in.  Just be still and listen, and then hold your hand up to take His.  He will walk with you in His patient way.  Late or not, He’s always waiting.  Isaiah 41:13

The Gift of Dream

When is a dream just a dream?    A secret present given, an experience into another place or time, only for you to see?   Or when is that dream meant to be shared, at the risk of sounding crazy?   I know that God gives his children spiritual gifts, but when is a vision of your own conjuring, and when is it something more??    It's so hard to discern.  I DO think God still talks to his children in dreams and visions.   He did in Bible times, why would he stop?   My son was once given the vision of a majestic lion, turning a shy and timid teenager into a spiritual soldier from that day forward.     Scripture even says it will be happening with greater frequency.  "Christ has generously divided out his gifts to us."  Eph 4:7.  "Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visions."  Joel 2:28    My dream was much less of a call to action, but more a gift of HOPE.   Here is my account, take it or leave it:

15 years ago, I had two little boys at home under the age of 5, along with a newborn daughter.   I had laid down with her for an afternoon nap and was subconsciously allowed to 'visit' Heaven.    The only way I can describe it is intense.   Intense, rich colors.  Intense beauty.  Intense sounds of birds and animals.   Intense PEACE.    The peace was actually the thing that stands out to me still.   How there was no worry of time, or where to go, or things I needed to do.  

I was in the valley.   With a gorgeous blue sky above, and green meadows full of colorful flowers all around me.   At the top of the hill before me, under a massive oak tree, Christ waited.

I climbed the hill and sheepishly approached him as he smiled down at me.   It was as if I were the size of a child, and he, a Father.    (Which really isn't something I have found in Scripture, but hey, it was the dream I was given and it is what it is.)   I asked him if I could sit in his lap and he almost laughed.   But just smiled a little smile and said, "Of course you can, Daughter".   

Completely star struck, I then asked, "Can I hug you??"   Kind eyes with a big smile this time - "of course you can!"     I don't know how long I sat on his lap.   Or if we talked.   Or went down memory lane.   But I can tell you, I remember his eyes.   You could fall into his eyes.  So deep and caring.  I don't even think I could say their color, because they were unearthly.    They saw into your soul and hypnotized you into a state of complete peace.   Of safety.   Of love.   I will never forget the feeling I had looking into his eyes, and having him look down on me with a Father's love.   Unmatched and perfect.     Him looking down into the eyes of the little one he had saved from death.... it was an intense bond I don't think is possible to share with another human.

When I awoke, it was not with relief but grief.   I wanted to be back on that hill more than anything.   I was upset and angry.   I was never suicidal, but I would have traded this life, my young children, my newborn - all to be back in his arms.    The peace was THAT perfect.     I don't even remember if I told my husband or best friends about my dream that day.   It was my secret to keep.

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My first opportunity to share was a few months later when a good friend was on her death bed, dying at the age of only 30 with cancer.   I then thought... here is the reason God had let me have those moments.   To share with her.   I told her of my dream and told her not to be scared.    That even though she would meet him soon, she would be loosing nothing, but gaining everything.    And I left her that day with the task, "When you see him, tell him I can't wait to hug him again."   I didn't cry when she died.   I was jealous in a way.    I no longer have a fear of death.   This world is not my home.  The blessed hope.

Conversely, a few years later, a young mom I had been trying to get to go to church with me told me about her near death experience during open heart surgery.   She had been medically dead twice, and they brought her back.   While under, she said she was going down in a dark elevator.... looking up at her two daughters at the top and screaming for it to stop.   She said she had no idea what she was going down to... but it was intense FEAR.   Her heart raced and she was terrified.   Screaming until she awoke.  I told her about my dream, and how no matter what, I would NEVER be using that elevator.   I didn't have that fear.   I explained the Gospel but she insisted, she "just wasn't ready".   I have no idea what path she will eventually chose to walk, but I did as the Spirit led, and have peace in that.   It is her choice to make.

I tell you all this because the other night, I had only my second dream ever that I would describe as prophetic.   I was walking in the woods and came upon two bears feasting on something.   As I froze, one looked at me and came charging.   He was literally skin and bones.   But rose up to growl at me with huge, nasty teeth.    But instead of running, I stood tall.   I opened my arms to make myself big, and yelled as loud as I could.   I don't know about the bear, but I effectively scared my husband to death!!    Minutes later, as he held me and lay his head on my chest, both our hearts pounding - I felt God say: "They are evil.  And evil is bearing its teeth now.   Trying to scare you.   But they are dying.   It is time for Christians to stand tall.   Act Big.  And be LOUD."

So there you have it my friends.  The first blog I have written in years.    I share my experience only because I feel like whether we meet on that hill tomorrow, or 30 years from now, our time is short.   Be LOUD.    God triumphs over evil in the end.  Regardless of political parties, sin culture, or economic conditions.  But fight the good fight.   Stand on the side of righteousness and quit letting culture tell you to be quiet and stand down.   Call out evil against our children.   WE are children of a Mighty King.    And He is alive and moving in these last days.    We have the gifts of hope and a peace that they do not.  

For his children, he is waiting for you.   For those who are unsure, he is waiting for you to choose to meet him, it is still up to you.   I would never dream of choosing wrongly.

**the paintings are from a young prodigy named Akiane.    She painted "Prince of Peace" at age 8 from visions and dreams and noted it was his eyes she was most drawn to.    Her website and book showcase other paintings of Christ, his creation, his children, and Heaven.   

Kiddie Talk

I found this old post that was only a draft.. but looking at printing this blog and this one deserves its own page!    Seth is now 20, and Addison is 14. 

Well with all frustration and aggravation with our adoption process, I thought I would steer clear to a more lighter subject - my beautiful kiddos. And I realized I really needed to immortalize some of the hilarious things they have said in the past that still make me smile and remember why being a mom is just the best job in the world... on most days anyway... Seth (age 5) - singing at the top of his lungs, praising God, singing "Blesser be your name O Lord, blesser be your naaaaaame" Addison (age 4) - playing in the backseat with her dolls, Barbies introducing themselves to each other - "What's your name? My name's Calista. What's your name? My name's Addison. What's your name? My name's may-naise" (mayonnaise? why?) Addison (3) - flower = fla-ler. Sleeping Beauty = Sleepin Booty. Addison (4) - able to swim now! But has apparently watched too many Mermaid movies as she swims with her legs together and her little tushy just bobs up and down, up and down. Addison (4) - singing sweetly in the back seat, again with her dolls. Beautiful little song about how lovely the friends were. Ending in the phrase, "and then she bit him in the FAAAAce."

Hummus Habesha style

In Ethiopia, Habesha is their word for true Ethiopian.    I, however, am a ferenque.   And I'm cool with that.   As long as I can insert little moments of Ethiopian love into my life, I'm good.

Backstory: My dear sister Jerry loves me.  And brought me a Mac-Daddy bag of berbere when she came to visit a few months back.   And I'm not even going to tell you how excited I was to get the powder to make shiro.   Seriously, I was ecstatic.

Hence I am on a mission to find uses for that huuuuge container of berbere.   Add it to chicken salad?  Of course!   Dust baked chicken?  Sure.   Sprinkle it on plain popcorn?  Yes, please!!!!

And now, I present my new favorite - 

 

  Black Bean Berbere Hummus

Can I get an Amen to the sheer genius of this marriage? I actually had pinned a recipe for Black Bean Hummus on a Chef-in-Training site.    So if you aren't lucky enough to have berbere (I was having to order it from an Ethiopian spice company.   Seriously, go order some now.), you can use her combination of spices as well.   But for those of you who stashed berbere away on your trip back from Ethiopia, here ya go:

(I doubled her recipe to make enough for our small group.  So thankful I did!  Leftovers for lunch!)

2 cans black beans, drained and rinsed
4 T olive oil
1/2 lemon, juiced
2 T white wine vinegar
1 tsp kosher salt
2-3 T Berbere, depending on how much heat you like.   I used 2 T.
2-3 cloves of garlic, chopped

*combine all ingredients in a food processor and process until smooth.  Serve with veggies, tortilla chips, or homemade chips.

* I originally had made homemade corn tortilla chips with berbere as well.   Cut them in 6 pieces, place on baking sheet and spray with a good bit of cooking spray, and sprinkle with berbere and kosher salt.   Bake at 350 for around 10 min. until brown and crunchy.   Umm, they went quickly.   (I burned my second batch so didn't get a picture... figures).

Idiots Guide to: being a Church Family to an Adoptive Family

Now, with my battle armor off.... I can look around and see those still fighting and can say unequivocally, the Church needs to step up.    So often I am hearing, "during/after our adoption - we were so disappointed in our church".   

What we mean to say... what we need to say... is that we need our family.   And so often what I have been hearing is that their church families are letting them down.  Yes- there are some rock star churches out there being the hands and feet of Jesus.   But so often, I think the church is kind of in a place of wanting to help, but not understanding what to do, or how to do it.    And we need to get better.   Adoption doesn't look like a 9 month pregnancy, so what should the church be doing?    So... I'm not calling anyone an idiot, just saying that sometimes a little guidebook is necessary... 

Being a Church Family to an Adoptive Family

- The Church family should bless.
Imagine having a six year old plopped in your lap to care for.  What would you need?   A new wardrobe, shoes, pajamas, socks, underwear, child sized eating utensils, toys, books, toothbrushes, hairbrushes, a bed, a room, bedding.... the list can get pretty long.    And now imagine you just spent every single dollar you had on $1000s in flights to bring that kid into your home.    The crickets in your wallet are chirping and the Ramen Noodles are sounding pretty good.

Yes, we know.  'Well, you shouldn't bring a child into your home if you can't provide for it.'   And we will.   But the initial investment to set up a home for a new child is usually pretty remarkable.   Church families provide showers for new mothers to celebrate the birth of a new baby.   Should not the church family celebrate the status of an orphan-no-longer even more?   A battle over that little one was won my friends!   Everything in the world today is making adoption harder and harder.   Legal hoops, financial commitments, foreign governments.  

Celebrate that child who now has a family!!!    Go to the airport to hoop and holler, scare the beejebees out of that baby, but show them you are excited for them.    That moment is only one moment, but for that child to be able to look back years later and see the photos of the welcome signs, the balloons, the tears - they will know that they were wanted, and celebrated, and loved by a community who cared about them.   Show it.

- The Church family should feed.
Adopted children of any age are scared, unsure, and have special needs.   Imagine being taken out of your current surroundings- placed in a new room, a new bed, with new people all around you (who may speak another language).    Sleep will not come easily (for anyone in the house!).   The food is weird.    It plainly, is the making for emotional breakdowns, temper tantrums, and stress (and that's just the mom!!)   

When trying to bond with a new child, and make them feel comfortable in their surroundings, that doesn't allow for meal planning, trips to the grocery, and cooked meals.    Parents may instead be spending hours huddled on the floor hugging a thrashing and screaming 9 year old, trying to speak love over them.   But other kids still need to be fed... and the budget (remember those Ramen noodles?) also doesn't allow for frequent trips for fast food or home cooked restaurants.  

But, adopting parents are so confusing!!!  One minute we are telling you that our new child needs to bond so, 'Please, let us learn to be a family and leave us alone for a bit..'.   And on the other hand we are asking, 'Please, let us learn to be a family, but please Lord, please don't make me do this alone!'

Just as the church family comforts a grieving family with food at funeral time... they should also pitch in when a new child is introduced to a family.  That child, even newborns, are usually grieving.   Grieving for their lost friends, a favorite nanny, just the comfort of familiarity.   Even if the situation wasn't a positive one.  Those parents need to invest their valuable time in helping that child to heal.    No, we may not be able to invite you in for extended visits - but a gift card in the mail, a lovingly prepared meal delivered to the front steps, a meal tree organized.   Just those 5 minutes on the front porch chatting over a pan of lasagna can be the most valuable gift you could ever give in that moment. 

- The Church family should pray.
This one really needs no explanation.   Pray church.  Pray.  The enemy is not happy with a little one being rescued out of his grasp.   These children, no matter the age, are part of a battle waged.   They are unsure, they are hurting, and they are often fighting the love that the Father is wanting to lavish on them.   Many come from backgrounds where they were never loved or valued.   And our job, as their new parents, is to convince them that we do love them.  Our job sometime is to MAKE ourselves love a child who is desperately fighting that love, even when we don't feel it.   So pray.

And let us know you are praying.   A card in the mail.  A quick email.   Let us know that in our moments of desperation and thinking, 'Why, oh why, did I do this to myself?  To my other kids?'   Let us know then, that you are holding our arms up, praying for the Lord to heal our hearts and the hearts of our children.   We may not tell you we need help, but we do.   Very rarely does an adoptive placement happen easily and smoothly.    Even if parents are smiling and saying how happy they are to have their child home (and they are happy!), they are more often than not, having a hard time adjusting in their new roles as well.

-The Church family should give.
Now here is the sticky one.  Again back to the, 'You shouldn't get a kid if you can't afford it'.   Over and over, and over in scripture does it say to take care of the least fortunate.   To take care of the fatherless.   To feed the hungry.   To love the unloved.   And if God has called a family to adopt, HE has promised them that HE will provide.   And he could choose any fashion to do this.  He owns the cattle on a thousand hills for goodness sake!   But as the Church family, it is your responsibility as family members to support your own.   I have heard of people getting offended when they receive support letters asking for help.    Really?  Seriously?   This is a HUGE undertaking and the decision to include you in this job is not an easy decision.   But get to it.   Show you are serious about loving the Man who came to adopt YOU, and help others show that love to a little one without a family.  

Does this mean selling your car and donating thousands of dollars?  Maybe.  But not likely.   It could mean $5.  It could mean $50.   God does this amazing trick where he multiplies little things like fish and $5 bills.  They miraculously become thousands.   Just give.  Show that you love.   Buy a silly trinket the family may be selling.   A cupcake or two from their stand.   Just show them you care.


These families are investing their hearts into loving a child they have never met.   Invest with them.   Feed them.  Pray for them.  Bless them.  And I promise--- there is a blessing you will receive for helping to bring a child home - every time you hear that child say 'I love you, Mommy'.   Or run to their new Daddy for a hug?  You can puff your chest out and say, "I helped build that."   Be the Church.  Be his hands and feet.   Just be the family He has called you to be.



 

Dear Compassion sponsor we'll never know:

Dear Compassion sponsor that we'll never know:

Perhaps you were handed his packet at a concert, that little boy in Ethiopia.
Perhaps you picked him off the table.
Perhaps you felt led to choose his face off the website.
Of this we'll never know.

But what you will never know is how life changing you picking that little boy in Ethiopia was.
You will never know how indebted my family is to your family, for choosing that little boy as your own.

Because what you will never know is how because you sponsored that little boy...
Perhaps your decision is what led to the decision for that little boy's family to save the life of MY little girl.

Perhaps it was the gospel which you shared in your letters which led that family to share love...
Perhaps it was the gospel the project shared with the family that led that family to share love...
Because when someone poured compassion into this family, compassion they then gave to MY little girl.
Of this we'll never know.

Perhaps it was the economic burden lifted of sending that one child to school, that allowed them to feel they could take in another child with five little mouths to feed already ...
Perhaps it was the little store that Compassion may have helped them start, that allowed them to feel they could take in another child, with five
little mouths to feed already ....
What made them say yes to her that day?
Of this we'll never know.

But what I do know is that MY little girl's life was saved, and she was loved  - and only because this family chose to help her, as you had helped them.   Without ever knowing.

They could have walked on by her little face.... but they didn't.
You could have walked on by his little face... but you didn't.
And how the two intertwine and depend on each other, we will never know.

But God knows.  And His writing of her story is far more beautiful than you will ever know.

** Dearest Sponsor: Olivia Selam has been with her adoptive family for one and a  half years.  She is happy, and thriving, and healthy.   A milk allergy was the cause of the family's need to place her for adoption.   They unselfishly gave her away to ensure her health.  Her easy transition to our family is primarily due to that love that your Compassion family invested in her for those months.   Because you chose to invest in them.  And for that we are eternally grateful. 

My Passion for Baked Oatmeal

I have died and gone to Heaven, this stuff is SO good - and besides the amounts of brown sugar, isn't too bad for you!   You can do a search for them under Weight Watchers baked oatmeal and they usually come up as 8 servings for 6 WW points.   Not QUITE as healthy if you eat 3 servings...

I actually have become an addict of Lynn's Kitchen's baked oatmeal variations.   We have made the Pumpkin Baked Oatmeal many, many times and seriously, still am in love.   The canned pumpkin just gives it this perfect sweetness that makes me smile.

Until I met her Coconut Oatmeal, and I debated breaking up with Pumpkin.  But hey, a girl can have two besties.

UNTIL..... I saw her recipe for Peach/Blueberry and decided to jump right in with our glorious bounty of fresh fruits and fashion a love after my own heart...   I am usually a cook from recipe girl but decided to go at it on my own with a few tweeks and man, was it good!

The ingredients:
(pardon the olive oil hanging out in back, should have moved that)

 

Blueberry/Peach Oatmeal

3 cups quick cooking oats
1/2 cup brown sugar
3/4 cup almond milk (or regular if you can tolerate it!  Liv and me, not so much)
1/2 cup yogurt (vanilla or plain would work)
2 T melted butter
2 eggs
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
2 tsp coconut flavoring (I am a cocoNUT.   You could use vanilla)
1/2 tsp cinnamon
2 fresh peaches, cut in chunks (or 1 can drained, if not in season)
3/4 cup frozen or fresh blueberries
* more brown sugar to sprinkle on top; around 1/4 cup

**Melt the butter and mix in all ingredients and spread in greased 9X13 pan.   I don't grease my pan because I am in love with Pampered Chef products and their perfect baking results.
** Top oatmeal with the extra brown sugar and bake at 350 degrees for 20 minutes.

It is the bomb, I tell you.  My 9X13 pan is already 3/4 empty and it has only been myself and two hungry Littles digging into it.   Olivia usually has about 3 bowls full of my baked oatmeal when I make it!    I usually have one bowl.   And maybe one (or two) later.... it really warms up great, even the next day.    Just ask my sitter who likes to 'make sure Olivia's tastes ok' when I send it with her lunch the next day, if it lasts that long!!!

 

Just a sip of water...

Her little face has haunted me.   Maybe 8 years old?  Maybe 12?   Her image has now been replaced with the image of so many of the little girls I have now seen.   Dressed in clothing hand washed too many times.   Mended as best as possible.   Hair matted.   Combed as best as possible in anticipation of our visit.

But her face haunts me.   As it was one of the most shameful moments in my life that haunts me.   

Her hollow eyes looked to my sports cup sitting at my feet, and back to my eyes, begging.  Pointing at my water, then signing the universal sign “drink?”  “water?”   Back to the cup, and back to my eyes, begging.   

And then I did what I have done so many times before – I turned my head and ignored.    And I will forever feel the shame from that moment.

In my defense, it was only a few hours off the plane from our comfortable country that I had stepped foot on this dirty soil.    I had never traveled before but had been told – ‘drink as much water as possible or you will get sick.  And you don’t want to get sick.’    This was our first visit, our first project, my first real encounter with the third world.    If I handed her my only cup, full of clean water, would I get any more today?   Would she give my cup back?  What if she had a disease?   What if she gave me that disease?   All those thoughts went through my head in the span of those precious minutes when I choose myself over a thirsty little one.

“And if anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones because he is my disciple, I tell you the truth, he will certainly not lose his reward.”  Matthew 10:42.

CHRIST’S words.   And I lost my reward that day.    I chose self over sacrifice.   

How often does that experience play over and over today?   In all of our lives?   No – you may not be faced face to face with a third world child begging for a sip of your water…

But are we choosing our own comfort (bigger house, newer car, nice vacation) over a child begging you for only a sip of what you could offer?

Are we choosing to protect our bodies from harm by not reaching out to the little one asking for help?   What about the orphans with diseases asking to be adopted?   Are we scared of the harm they may do to our families?  Are we scared of what the world might say if we bring a child of another color into our family?   Are we scared of the emotional problems a foster child might bring upon our family if we were to reach out?

Are we choosing to protect ourselves, as we don’t know when we will get resources again – from this here and now loss of what we see as valuable?   Do we not give to the child in need because what if we commit to sponsor, but then loose our job?  Or need that money for other things later?

Do we choose not to help because of the distrust?   What if I don’t get back something from that which I have given?   What if others are just trying to take what is mine?

So you see – you have your moments where you deny those searching eyes as well.   We all do.   I still do.   But I know that God gave me that experience so that the next time those eyes come looking to me for aid – I hope I will not turn my eyes downward and ignore.   Lesson learned.

Everything I have has been given to me by my Father in Heaven.    All they are asking for is just a sip of that bounty I have been given.    So who am I to refuse to share?  Don’t we tell our kids they have to share?  Doesn’t God tell us the same?    

Are you obeying?  Or ignoring?   What is God asking you to share that you instead are grasping tightly to?  

Recent research has statistically shown the dramatic effect Compassion International and their sponsorship program has made on the lives of these children as they have grown up. 
Christianity Today news on Compassion

Right now some little ones have been waiting close to a year for that little bit of help you can offer - can you at least research these children and see if God is calling you to give them a sip from the huge pitcher he has given you??
Compassion International

Meetcha Day Revisited

We've been a bit busy with wrestling and ball schedules, SOOO back to the story - I figure if I write one blog post every few months, I will have our 10 day trip journaled in what - a few years or so?? )

After landing in Addis Ababa, early Monday morning, we went back to the guest house to unpack and rest a bit before going to lunch and then to meet Olivia, for the FIRST time ever.  

Why not go straight there you say?   Because this mama was not in charge of the schedule, obviously...

This would also be the time to mention how hilarious it must have looked to have the 6 of us, and all 18 of our bags, loaded up on trolleys to tie to the roof of our van.    Even funnier, our guide was no longer allowed to come and meet us inside the airport so we were standing around - all 6 of us, and our 18 bags, in a foreign country - really looking like fools.  Kind of like Eddie Murphy on 'Coming to America'.   How much luggage do these Americans need???  Seriously?   (A reminder that 85% of that luggage was donations for the orphanages but the Ethiopians didn't know that!  And we were able to call our guide and found out that he was outside in the parking lot waiting for us.)

Once at our gorgeous guest house, a few of our crew fell asleep, a few showered or changed after our 2 days traveling.    After 2 days, I felt like stank with a capital S.  

After a quick (1.5 hr) meal at Island Breeze, (my least favorite of the restaurants we visited), we finally boarded back up to go and meet Livvie.   And FYI, liking tuna and liking pizza - together does not a harmony make.    We then started our habit of boxing up our left-overs to give to the street kids.  I think they got a whole Tuna Pizza minus one bite.   I'll just chalk my menu choice up to exhaustion.

After loading up we made our way to the big blue AWAA sign outside the gates of the America World transition home.   It is the pentacle moment of your Meetcha Day as it announces that you.have.arrived.

From there you wait at the bottom of the steps while they go to get your child ready.    In our case, our friend Mindy snuck in to try to find her while we waited outside.   She was able to snap some now-dear-to-my-heart photos of the nannies preparing our little one like a bride on her wedding day.  Minus the white dress and plus some mismatched clothing.   You can see the little cow outfit beside them that I had sent 3 months prior.    A size 3 mos outfit for my (then unknown) 9 mos baby girl.   The nanny must have taken one look at that outfit and then said, "yeah, that ain't gonna happen."

As we waited, our hearts going a million miles an hour, Mindy comes running out the door saying, "here she comes!" and there she is.   In the flesh, scared to death.

And thus Livvie fulfills her Daddy's prophecy of months earlier saying, "you know we will get the screaming baby, right??"   We later did find out that a screaming baby is actually a GOOD sign.   As it means the baby is able to attach to her caretakers (the nannies) so will have an easier time transferring that attachment to her new caretakers (us).  

Many have asked me if I cried when I saw her.  No.   She was my baby.  And she was scared, and upset, and I just had to comfort her and let her know it would be alright.   Crying wasn't on my schedule for that day.  (now the day we left, that is another story). 

Within a couple of minutes, she had stopped screaming and was only giving us little sniffles.   She would stick her little bottom lip out when she was feeling anxious and it was a good thermometer to know to back (the kids) off of her.

 

We emptied out her baby bag - trying puffs, rattles, squeaky toys.   She would look at each one but really had no interest in playing with anything at all.

 

I was able to get a few quick little half smiles.   Progress for only an hour in.   And she easily fell asleep on Daddy after he fed her some kind of gruel they brought her.    Their food usually looked like some kind of porridge, or smashed pasta bits with carrots, tomatoes, and onions.   And usually didn't smell so hot...   SO tired (him, not her).

The necklace I am wearing, I wore everyday.   She would hold onto the beads as she drifted off to sleep and smell the perfume I had brought to wear everyday.   I brought both back in May for her Gotcha Day, hoping she would remember them somehow and remember how much I had loved her, and how even though only 10 days later, I had left her (just like everyone else had), that I had come back. 

Hopefully my next post will be quicker than 6 months.   As her transformation over the next several days was amazing...  from orphan to daughter almost over-night.   Adoption is amazing, and painful, and tiring.   But so, so beautiful. 

Original meetcha day post posted on March 5th, 2012.